Runnin'
by Kai-Rhiannon
Summary: What if Faith had a secret? Something she left behind when she was called to be a slayer? Could that secret be the key to Dean's salvation? Will it save Dean from himself? (Takes place after season 7 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer; the comics never happened. Takes place right after the end of season 9 of Supernatural.)
1. Prologue

**What if our very own Faith Lehane had a little secret; something that she left behind when she was called as a slayer? Could that secret be the key to Dean's salvation? Will it save Dean from himself? (Takes place after season 7 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer; the comics never happened. Takes place right after the end of season 9 of Supernatural.)**

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Supernatural (but God, I wish I did)! I only own Gen and the plot of this story.**

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><p><em>Prologue<em>

_Robin looked over at his girlfriend-though he'd never call her that out loud-in the seat next to him. The slayer had her usual stone-face on. The ex-principal smirked. Although Faith hid it well, he knew that she had never been a fan of flying. Come to think of it, most of the slayers he knew weren't. The slayer sensed his eyes on her and turned her gaze to meet his, one dark eyebrow raised.  
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_"What?" she asked, feeling wigged out by the obvious affection in Robin's stare. She still wasn't used to going steady with someone and it made her uncomfortable._

_"Nothing. I was just wondering what's on your mind," Robin answered. He paused. "Could it be the reason we're flying to Boston all of sudden?" he said, his tone amused. Faith fidgeted in her seat, cracking her knuckles._

_"Maybe." Robin frowned a bit. He wanted to move closer to her, to make her forget whatever was troubling her, but he knew by now not to push. He settled back in his seat and closed his eyes; they still had a couple hours left before they reached Massachusetts.  
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_Faith sighed. How was she supposed to tell Robin the truth? How could she explain to him the secret she left behind when she was called to be a slayer? Well...she'd find out soon enough._


	2. Renegade

**There are a few different directions I can see this story going, but I'm not sure which one to choose. What would you guys like to see happen? Let me know in reviews!**

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own Supernatural or Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but God I wish I did! I only own Gen and this plot line. I also do not own the song for which this story was named for—Runnin' by Adam Lambert. The song was rumored to have a cover by Jensen Ackles, but was really just a doctored version of the original, which is quite good and now has a home on my iPod. Admittedly, I like to pretend it's Jensen.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: Renegade<strong>

_Los Angeles, 1998_

The sound of bare feet slapping the pavement and labored breathing thundered in her sensitive ears. She barely even noticed the usual sounds of city life around her as she ran from the alley, then in a random direction. She didn't care where she went, as long as it was away. When she was a few blocks away, she finally stopped to take a breath and compose herself. She stayed to the shadows as she looked around. Everything was bright and loud—completely the opposite of what she was used to. Normally, the demons didn't take children as slaves. What could children possibly be good for? There was a short time, however, that they'd decided to experiment with capturing people as children; they thought it might be easier to break them at a younger age.

That's how Gen ended up a slave. The demons had been collecting children under the guise of being an orphanage. When children were about four or five they were taken to another dimension to be slaves; rounded up by a man named Ken like he was taking them to a place for homeless and troubled youth, then dressed in white slave robes and pushed into a murky pool into the other world. Gen was taken shortly after her fifth birthday. She had no idea what month it was, only that she'd been a slave for thirteen long years. Everything she knew was left behind in that place; left behind when the mysterious blonde girl—Buffy, she thought she'd heard her call herself—came in and rescued everyone today.

Gen shivered in the night air. The slave clothes weren't very warm. It occurred to her that she didn't even know what she looked like; her hair was long dark brownish-red and her skin was very fair, but those were the only things she could see.

_Genevieve. My name is Genevieve._ That one thought repeated itself in her mind over and over. She had held onto it for thirteen years; she'd refused to forget who she was. At first, when the demons asked her who she was, she'd respond with her name. Even when she knew they'd beat her for the response, she'd still responded with her name. She learned, however, that if she were to ever make it out alive that she would need to seem compliant. She'd marked every day that passed on the wall of her cell with a tally and she repeated her name to herself constantly, until it was nearly the only thought she had left.

She looked around again, though she wasn't sure what she was looking for. She had nowhere to go. Hell, she didn't even know where she should try to go. How much had the world changed since she'd been gone? Living in darkness for so long had given her sensitive eyes and the synthetic lighting of the city was already giving her a headache. Rubbing her temples, she decided that the only thing she could do was walk until she found something…anything.

So that's what she did. She walked aimlessly for a bit when she ran into a young woman. Not having any real concept of age, Gen could only guess at how old this lady was, but she looked about the same age as the blonde rescuer.

"Oh my God! Are you okay? Do you need some help?" the stranger asked frantically, apparently upset by Gen's appearance.

Gen tilted her head to the side and appraised her. She was a small thing, not very muscular, and looked to be similar in size to Gen herself. Without so much as a thought, Gen rammed the girl's head into the wall of the building next to them, effectively knocking her out cold. She leaned down and listened. Satisfied when she heard a heartbeat, Gen got to work dragging her into the nearest alley. She stripped the girl of all her clothes, except her underwear, discarding her slave clothes and dressing herself in the jeans, t-shirt, and hoodie. The clothes were too tight around the hips, upper arms, and chest, but it would do until she could find something better. She slid on the shoes—sandals of some kind—and was thankful that they fit decently as well. Gen picked up a little square thing that had fallen out of the girl's pocket. It felt leathery and unfolded to reveal a picture of the girl with a name on it as well as other information that Gen didn't understand. In another fold of the square was something she _did_ recognize: money. She had seen it before she'd been taken. Surprisingly, this stranger seemed to have a lot of it. Gen pocketed the money and left the leather square and the rest of its contents with its owner.

Gen exited the alley and starting walking towards the busier parts of the city. With money, she could buy food, and maybe some clothes that fit. It should be easy to figure out, right?

_I guess I'll find out._


	3. Never Surrender

**Sorry it's taken so long for me to update, I was trying to get caught up on Supernatural before the new season started. I just finished the episode and I'm wondering what direction they're going to take it in. This chapter is during the beginning of the first episode of season ten.  
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**DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything Supernatural or Buffy related. I just own Gen and this story.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2: Never Surrender<strong>

Book after book, journal after journal, one cup of coffee after another, Sam poured everything he had into finding Dean. His eyes stung with exhaustion and his hands shook from the amount of caffeine in his system, but he couldn't stop. He _wouldn't_ stop. He kept going back to the day his brother died. He'd left Dean's body alone so he could summon Crowley, but the king of Hell never answered. When Sam returned to check on Dean—still hoping to find him alive, by some miracle—his body was gone. The only thing left was a blood stain on the bed, from the exit wound in Dean's back where Metatron had stabbed him with an angel blade, and a note that appeared to be in Dean's handwriting.

_Let me go, Sammy,_ was all the note said. Sam didn't understand, but he knew Dean's disappearance had something to do with Crowley. He had been right. Weeks after his brother's disappearance, Sam followed a lead on a John Doe, which led him to a gas station where the aforementioned man was murdered. Or so it had seemed. After watching the security camera at least a dozen times, it was evident that the mystery man had pulled a knife on another customer in the gas station; that customer turned out to be his brother. When Dean defended himself against his assailant he kept beating him until the man was dead, but it wasn't until Dean looked into the security camera that Sam felt his stomach churn. His brother's eyes were _solid black_.

Sam returned to the bunker, covered in a cold sweat and feeling as if he was going to vomit at any time. His brother…a demon? Sam was still in shock, but part of him was angry…so very angry. Whatever had happened, he knew that Crowley was responsible for what had become of Dean. He just knew it! What other explanation could there be? Clearly, Crowley had allowed one of his followers to use his brother's body as a meat suit.

Sam stumbled to the table, where he'd previously been doing research, and grasped the edges of it to steady himself. His knuckles were white and he couldn't see through the hot tears that were threatening to spill from his eyes. Angrily, he brushed the tears away and let his fist land loudly on the table. He needed to compose himself; Castiel was on his way to the bunker with Hannah so they could figure out a game plan. Right now, however, Sam was all alone. He glanced around the main room of the bunker, memories flooding his mind as he did so. He remembered how excited Dean was when they'd first moved in. He loved having his own bedroom as well as a fully working kitchen. Sam would often catch him goofing off with the weapons that were on display. In those first days in the bunker, Dean seemed like himself again; like all the horrible things they had been through didn't matter right then. It reminded Sam just how much of a kid his older brother really was on the inside.

The memories tore him apart. Sam growled and swung his arm out, knocking several books, as well as a coffee cup, to the floor in a heap. Sam sank to the floor, panting and shaking. Absently, he looked over to the pile of books and journals at his side. That's when he saw something that caught his eye, something he'd overlooked in his previous searching. He grabbed the open journal and looked at the pages it was open to. The writing wasn't as old fashioned as the other journals and the cover wasn't as aged. Sam's brow furrowed as he flipped to the front of the journal to see who it had belonged to. His breath hitched in his throat for a moment when he found it—the clumsy signature of Kevin Tran, written in blue pen.

Sam took a deep breath and went back to the pages he'd been looking at. Apparently, the angel tablet had mentioned something about a "savior of the damned". When Kevin researched it—God know where and how—he discovered an old prophecy. It spoke of a key to the doors of Hell that, when activated, would seal the doors forever. It wasn't perfect; unlike the trials, it couldn't send demons on earth back to Hell, it could only seal in those who were already there. Regardless, it would be a start to ending the scourge of demons. As Sam read on, it seemed that the prophecy hinted at the key being able to do more than just close the doors of Hell, but it was all very vague. Kevin had written down a summoning spell to bring the key to them, but some of the ingredients would not be easy to get.

"_Blood of the ruler of fallen humanity…a Cerberus fang…three iron nails used in the crucifixion…rose thorns…and something belonging to the righteous man who shed blood in hell_. So that's all?" Sam muttered sarcastically as he read off the ingredients for the spell. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Castiel's number.

"Sam?" the angel answered.

"Yeah, Cas. I need you to pick up a few things on your way here," Sam responded.

"What kind of things?" Castiel asked, his voice quizzical.

"Ingredients for a summoning ritual. I have a lead that may be able to help us save Dean."


	4. Touch of the Younger Kind

**Thank you all for your reviews! The more reviews, the better! I have a couple directions I'm thinking of for the story, but I'm not sure which I'm going to choose. Both of them are about Gen. Let me know what you're interested in seeing in your reviews! If you're interested to know what Gen looks like, you can see her in my deviantart gallery. Just look under my profile for the link. In case you haven't picked up on it, the titles of chapters are song titles and/or lyrics. I'll eventually list the songs with the artists.**

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own anything Supernatural or Buffy related, but I'd love to own Dean! ;)**

**Warning: This chapter contains very depressing material involving a very real issue that still exists today, this may be a fictional story, but things like this are happening right now, in this country. You _will_ need tissues.  
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><p><strong>Chapter 3: Touch of the Younger Kind<strong>

From the airport Faith and Robin took a rent-a-car to their destination. Faith drove and Robin wondered where they were going, though he knew better than to press the matter. Faith would tell him when she was ready; bothering her only made her retreat into herself more. It was clear that Faith was dreading something as she kept thinking of ways to prolong their trip. They stopped at Atlantic Fish Company for a late lunch and then continued on their way. It was taking them quite a while to get wherever they were going because Faith kept stopping to use the bathroom. Robin was exhausted from the flight, but he stayed awake to see where exactly the slayer was taking him.

Finally, they made it from Worcester to Boston. When Faith stopped to fill the car with gas, though it didn't really need it yet, Robin got out to stretch his legs. He was waiting patiently by the car when he overheard Faith talking to a local man. She was asking for directions, judging by the way the man was gesturing, but the only word Robin could make out sounded like "orphanage". His brow furrowed quizzically as Faith walked back to the car. She caught him staring at her and raised a dark eyebrow at him.

"What?"

"Do you want to tell me why we're going to an orphanage?" Robin asked, being straightforward. Faith paled a bit, but didn't respond. "Did Willow track the location of another slayer here?"

Faith sighed. "You weren't supposed to hear that. I wanted to tell you myself."

"Tell me what?"

Faith pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled slowly. This was a good time for a smoke. She took a pack of cigarettes out of her jacket pocket, retrieved one from the pack, took out her zippo lighter and lit it, then put the pack back in her pocket. She took a long drag from the cigarette, then exhaled slowly. Finally, she spoke.

"I've never told you much about my past. Actually, I've never told anyone much about my past. It's not pretty and I prefer to leave it where it is," she paused for a moment, taking another drag from the cigarette. Robin listened and waited patiently.

"Both of my parents were alcoholics. My father was, apparently, imprisoned for murder when I was four, so for years I thought he was dead. I don't remember much of him from back then—only the things that came after he left. I'd like to think he would've prevented those things from happening, but I'll never really know." Faith paused again for her cigarette and Robin remained silent, though listening to every word.

"Not long after my dad was gone, my mom got involved with a druggie—I've blocked out his name for years, now I don't even remember it. He abused me while mom passed out from drinking, but he was smart enough to avoid leaving marks on me. I thought he did that so no one at school would believe me if I tried to tell them, but his reasons were much more sinister. … It started when I was five. One night, he dragged me into the living room where a bunch of creepy men paid him to let me sit on their laps. It made me very uncomfortable, but I didn't protest because I knew I'd get beat for it." By now, Robin's look of intent listening became one of appalled understanding. He knew what was going to come next. He'd even seen it couple of times in his years as a principle.

"That was only the beginning. It went on like that for a few years. My mom was on board with it. She advertised me online with a webcam. I was known as a 'Snow White' in the sex trafficking circuit. When I got older, men started paying my mom and her boyfriend to have 'private sessions' with me. I'm not gonna sugar coat it for you, Robin—it means exactly what you think it means. In the child prostitution world, the goal of the parents is to sell the child before they're too old. It usually ends in an arranged marriage. If you have any delusions of me escaping and going to the authorities, you can get rid of them now. It doesn't happen."

"So how _did_ you get out?" Robin asked quietly, still in shock.

"I'm getting to that. Anyway, this went on until I was twelve—that's when I 'became a woman' as they say. Business slowed down a bit because I was getting too old, but it was still there. Why'd it stop? Because I got knocked up. My mom's boyfriend beat me black and blue for the first time ever when he found out. I was damaged goods. No one wanted to rent me anymore and the chances of getting me in an arranged marriage were lowered significantly. I wasn't taken to the doctor because my parents were afraid of people finding out who might actually do something about my situation. So for seven months, I was abused so that I may have a miscarriage. I didn't, but I did end up going into labor during my seventh month. I wasn't taken to the hospital; my parents enlisted the help of someone who acted as a 'midwife' of sorts for these types of situations." Faith paused to take a drag from her cigarette, but quickly turned around when she felt tears threatening to escape her eyes.

"I never even got to hold her. The midwife took her away before I had the chance. I was told that she would be left at an orphanage. I didn't get away from my mother and her boyfriend until I was called to be a slayer. My watcher…Diana…she took me away from all that. …" Faith trailed off, her heart aching at the thought of her watcher—the only real mother she'd ever had. The slayer jumped a bit when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up, surprised to see that Robin had come so close to her. He looked down at her and rubbed away an errant tear on her cheek with his thumb. Faith looked down awkwardly, flicking some ash from her cigarette.

"Your watcher…she died?" Robin asked softly. Faith nodded, sniffing a bit.

"I'm surprised you don't know already. I thought everyone in the slaying world knew about the time the vampire Kakistos slaughtered Diana Dormer," the slayer answered, her tone angry. Robin looked taken aback.

"Where is he—Kakistos—now?" he asked.

"Dust. I staked him with a two-by-four. Voila. The end."

Both of them stood still for moment, never saying a word. Faith had never told anyone about her abuse or her pregnancy until now. It was the most honest she had ever been with anyone. Finally, Robin pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her. She lost it. Faith never really cried, but now she was bawling. She sobbed into Robin's t-shirt until she ran out of tears. Robin said nothing; he held her and ran his fingers through her hair until she stopped crying. He pulled back to look at her and gently wiped the tears off her face. Faith looked embarrassed.

"So…didn't plan on that…"she mumbled. Robin allowed himself a small smile.

"Look at me," he said, tilting the slayer's face up to meet his gaze. "You have nothing to be ashamed of. I love that you've been so honest with me." Robin paused. "I love _you_, Faith." Faith's eyes widened a bit and her cheeks turned red. She looked down, fidgeting, then looked back up at him.

"Ditto." Robin smiled. He knew what she meant and he was happy to hear it. He wasn't going to push her to say "I love you". He kissed her softly and hugged her tightly.

"I swear, Faith, I will never let you go through hell again," he said. Faith snorted in amusement.

"Going to hell is kind of in the job description." Robin chuckled at her. He stepped back and ran a hand over his face. Faith flicked her cigarette onto the pavement and stopped it out with her boot.

"Come on, let's go find that orphanage. It's time for you to hold your daughter," Robin said, opening the car door for his girlfriend. Faith wrinkled her nose at his show of chivalry, but said nothing and got into the car. Robin went around to the other side and got in. As Faith started the car and pulled out of the gas station, Robin couldn't stop looking at her. He finally had a deeper understanding of the woman he loved so much and now, he was about to learn even more.


	5. Strange Magic

**Thank you for the reviews guys! Okay, so here are the songs I've used so far for the names of chapters:**

**"Renegade" by _Styx_**

**"Never Surrender" by _Skillet_**

**Lyrics from "My Sharona" by _The Knack_**

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own anything Supernatural or Buffy related. I only own Gen and this story. Still wish I owned Dean, though.  
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><p><strong>Chapter 4: Strange Magic<strong>

When Castiel arrived at the bunker he looked like he'd been run over by a semi. Hannah was not with him. Sam raised an eyebrow at the state of his angelic friend.

"Jeez, Cas, what happened to you?" he asked, stepping aside to let the angel in.

"I got the ingredients," Castiel replied, holding up a burlap sack. Sam took the sack from him.

"What happened?" he asked again. Cas gave him a deadpan stare

"Have you ever tried to take a fang from the Cerberus, Sam?" he asked dryly.

"No," Sam answered slowly.

"Don't." Castiel turned and started to make his way downstairs into the main room of the bunker. Sam shuddered at the thought of Castiel fighting the Cerberus and followed him down the stairs. He set the bag of ingredients on the table and untied it, looking through the ingredients. He pulled out the rose thorns first. They were the biggest rose thorns Sam had ever seen and they had been braided into a crown, presumably by Castiel. Careful not to get pricked by the thorns, Sam set the crown aside and took out the next object. It was three iron nails, tied together with a piece of twine. Sam gulped a bit. The nails were seven inches long _each_ and though they were rusted and gnarled Sam could still see the bloodstains on the iron. He looked up at Castiel, holding up the nails.

"These are _the_ crucifixion nails?" he asked.

"Of course," Castiel answered.

"How did you find them?" Sam asked, scrutinizing the detail of the nails. The idea of having one hammered into his wrist made him cringe.

"It wasn't difficult. All the angels know the location of the holy tomb of Jesus." Sam nodded, unsurprised by the angel's answer. He reached in to grab the Cerberus fang. When his hand touched it, his eyes widened—it was much bigger than he'd imagined. Sam pulled the fang out of the bag, surprised to see that it was as big as the First Blade. He suddenly felt guilty for asking Castiel to retrieve such a thing.

"How do we get Crowley's blood? He's not likely to hand it over willingly," Castiel pointed out.

"Not to worry, when Dean and I held him prisoner here I extracted some of his blood and put it in a safe place. Never know when you're gonna need blood from the king of Hell."

"Excellent foresight on your part, Sam. Now I assume you have something of Dean's?" Castiel asked. Sam's brow furrowed quizzically.

"Why would we need something of Dean's?" Castiel stared at him like he'd just said two plus two was five.

"The spell called for something belonging to the righteous man who shed blood in Hell, yes?"

"Well yeah."

"Your brother _is_ that man. He was a righteous man who shed blood in Hell, thereby breaking the first seal and giving Lilith a chance to start the apocalypse. We need something personal of his." Sam nodded, his mind going back to the year when Dean came back from Hell. Oddly enough, things were simpler back then.

"I'll go get the rest of the ingredients," Sam mumbled, leaving Castiel alone for the moment. The angel looked around the room. The entire bunker felt wrong without Dean there.

Sam retrieved the vial of Crowley's blood, then made his way to Dean's room to search for something personal enough to use for the spell. When he arrived at his brother's bedroom he stood in the doorway, at a loss for what to look for. There were several knives and wooden stakes on the shelf above the bed, but nothing Dean cherished or kept on him all the time. Sam's eyes flickered around the room finally landing on something crumpled next to Dean's bed. Sam tilted his head to the side and crossed the room to the crumpled object. It was a shirt. Sam picked it up and unrumpled it. His heart ached when he realized it was the shirt Dean was wearing when he died, covered in a large bloodstain. Surely, this would do for the spell.

Sam returned to Castiel with the shirt and the vial of blood, his vision somber. Castiel looked at him questioningly, but when he saw the blood on the shirt he didn't need to ask what was wrong anymore.

"Shall we get on with it then?" Castiel asked quietly. Sam nodded.

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><p>The spell seemed simple enough; paint the symbol of Hades on the floor, place a sacrificial bowl in the middle containing the ingredients, then light the ingredients on fire with a smudge stick made of dried narcissus flowers while saying the incantation.<p>

Sam went to the store room—the one that hid the dungeon—and looked through the ingredients they had. Thankfully, dried narcissus flowers were one of the many things they had. Sam fashioned the flowers into a crude smudge stick and returned to the main room where Castiel had already painted the symbol of Hades on the floor in his blood.

"Why'd you use your blood?" Sam asked, placing the ingredients in a bowl. Castiel shrugged.

"It was the only thing I had on hand." Sam shook his head.

"Well, maybe blood of a fallen angel will add more power to the spell," he said, lighting the smudge stick on fire with his lighter. Sam placed the bowl of ingredients on the symbol and waved the smoking smudge stick over it as he chanted.

"_Salvatorem animarum iactura, clavis inferni ianua, et ostende te ad me._" When the last word was spoken, Sam dropped the smudge stick into the bowl, effectively lighting the ingredients on fire.

The two men waited patiently for something to happen, getting more anxious as the ingredients burned and nothing appeared. The ingredients burned to ash and when the last bit of flame turned to heavy, sweet smoke, something began to occur. Without build up or warning, there was a noise akin to the sound of strong wind blowing open a door. There was a quick flash of blue light and then the tower of smoke began to clear. As it did, Sam and Castiel were able to make out a small figure standing in the midst of the smoke. Finally, the smoke cleared enough for them to see—both men froze, their eyes wide with surprise, their cheeks slowly turned pink with embarrassment.

There, standing where the bowl of ingredients had been, was a naked woman, dripping wet from head to toe and shivering. If it was possible to look enraged and shocked at the same time, this woman was doing it quite nicely. Sam and Castiel stood staring with their mouths gaping. The girl was quite short—barely over five feet it looked like—and very fair skinned. She had one arm crossed over her chest and the other hand over her crotch. Neither of which were able to conceal her curves. She wasn't slender, but was definitely in good shape, as if she'd spent years working to achieve a strong and healthy physique. She had her bellybutton pierced and a tattoo of a daffodil tumbling down her right hip and thigh. On the left side of her ribcage, just under her breast, Sam spotted the familiar anti-demon-possession tattoo. The girl—woman was more like it, but it was hard to tell exactly how old she was—had Sangria-red hair that fell in layers to the tips of her breasts and striking green eyes that Sam found oddly comforting. Her nose was dainty, her eyes sharp, and her lips looked strangely full and familiar.

Judging by her appearance, they had summoned her in the middle of a shower. Soapy water trickled down her body and pooled on the floor, filling the room with the scent of roses and pomegranates. Sam and Castiel were snapped out of their daze when she spoke.

"What the _hell_ is going on!?"

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><p>Sam and Castiel waited in the main room while the woman, whose name was Gen, went to the bathroom to rinse off the remaining soap. They were both relieved that they had managed to convince her that they weren't going to hurt her. Initially, they'd believed her to be unarmed, but when Sam took a step toward her for the first time, she revealed a necklace around her neck that concealed a small knife. It wasn't much, but she wielded it like she knew how to use it, suddenly forgetting about her nakedness. Same was caught off guard by the sudden view of her body uncovered, giving her an opening to lunge at him, stabbing at him with her knife. She managed to get in a cut to Sam's right cheekbone before Castiel had pulled her off of him, pinning her arms.<p>

He didn't have hold of her long before she swung her head back and hit him in the nose with her skull and danced out of his grasp. She'd sprinted across the room, over a table, and grabbed two swords that were on display, unsheathing them and taking a defensive stance. The boys had had no choice but to raise their arms in surrender and keep their distance while they explained how and why they'd summoned her from the shower in her motel room. They splashed themselves with holy water and cut their palms with silver knives to prove to her that they were human. Gen was still a bit skeptical, but relaxed her stance.

"I'll tell you what, you guys point me to some clothes and a shower and we can talk after I'm rinsed and dressed," she'd said in an authoritative tone.

"O-of course," Sam replied, directing her to the closest bathroom. "Castiel, would you retrieve some clothes for her, please?" Castiel nodded, still clutching his bleeding nose, and left to find some clothes for Gen.

Gen had locked the bathroom door, so Castiel simply left the clothes on the floor right outside, so she wouldn't miss them when she opened the door. All that had happened about ten minutes ago.

Sam was flipping through Kevin's journal, sipping from a cup of fresh coffee and trying to ignore the itching of the butterfly closures on the cut on his cheek. Castiel sat next to him, wads of tissues shoved up each nostril, trying very hard to forget Gen's naked body. His ears turned red at the thought.

As Sam read through the journal it became more and more apparent that Kevin's research on the key to hell had been rather fruitless. Sam pursed his lips and put the journal off to the side, opting for research on the internet instead. He pulled his laptop closer and opened it, waiting a moment for it to wake up before typing key to hell into a search engine. The results lead him to various pictures and Bible verses, but nothing that spoke of the savior of the damned. Sam leaned back in his chair and ran a hand over his face.

"Maybe I should take over the research, Sam. You appear tired," Castiel said, his voice sounding funny due to the tissues in his nose.

"Have at it. I honestly don't know what to look for anymore. It seems that no one has ever heard of this mystical key," Sam replied, his voice tired and frustration. Suddenly, a thought came to the angel, causing him to perk up in his seat a bit.

"I might know where to start. Fourteen years ago, another key to other dimensions was being hunted down by a goddess called Glorificus and an order called the Knights of Byzantium. If I remember correctly, the key could open dimensions, but at a price—it would destroy the world in the process. Glorificus, a most fearsome hell goddess, wished to use the key to return to her own dimension, while the Knights of Byzantium wished to destroy it in order to keep it from being used."

"What happened?" Sam asked, suddenly very interested.

"In order to protect the key from the knights and the goddess a group of monks called the Order of Dagon transformed it into a human. Specifically, the little sister of the Slayer. They knew it was the Key's best chance to be protected," Castiel explained.

"Wait. What's 'the Slayer'?" Sam asked, looking confused. Castiel stared at Sam with a "oh you poor idiot" face.

"You mean to tell me that you've spent your whole life hunting monsters and you've never once heard of the Slayer?"

"Just the band," Sam responded. Castiel put his head in his hands for a moment, then sighed.

"After Lilith, the first demon, and Eve, the mother of monsters, came into being the world was plagued by creatures of darkness. A group of men set out to stop this plague, but were too weak and cowardly to do it themselves. Instead, they found a girl and they chained her to the earth and imbued her with the pure essence of a demon, giving her the strength and power to hunt and kill evil beings. And so began the line of the Slayer. 'Into every generation, there is a chosen one. One girl in all the world. She alone will wield the strength and skill to stand against the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness; To stop the spread of their evil and the swell of their numbers. She is the Slayer.' Every time one slayer dies, the next one is immediately activated. The men who created the first slayer became the Watchers—those tasked with the job of training the slayers."

"Well if that's true, why have Dean and I never heard of them?" Sam asked, confused.

"Slayers prefer to do things a bit more inconspicuously. They're also much more commonplace now. Several years ago, a powerful witch used an ancient slayer's weapon to break the rules. No longer is there one slayer at a time; any girl who could become a slayer _is_ a slayer," the angel explained. Sam nodded, trying to process all the new information.

"So, do you think the same monks who protected the other key will know something about this key?" he asked. Castiel shook his head.

"All the monks were killed by Glorificus, but the places they used to hide may contain information about the keys. I'll go look for them at once." With that, Castiel stood up and headed toward the stairs.

"Wait, Cas!" Sam called, standing up. The angel turned to look at him.

"Be careful out there," Sam said. Castiel nodded and then disappeared up the stairs and out of the bunker.

Sam turned around and saw Gen standing in one of the doorways, leaning against the door frame, arms and ankles crossed. He felt an ache in his chest when he realized whose clothes she was wearing. Apparently, Castiel had supplied her with one of Dean's button-up shirts and a pair of his boxers as well. Sam couldn't help but think about how delighted Dean would've been to see a wet woman wearing his clothes. He shook away the thought and gesturing to a seat at the table.

"Care to sit down?" Gen eyed him warily, but came and sat nevertheless, curling up in the seat next to him. She never took her eyes off of him. He couldn't blame her.

"Alright, start talking," she said. Sam scratched the back of his next awkwardly.

"What would you like to know?" he asked.

"Start with the basics: who are you, where we are, and why you summoned me here," Gen answered. Sam sighed. This was going to be a long conversation.


	6. Guinevere

**I love reviews! The more reviews I get, the more eager I am to post another chapter! The song I used for the name of last chapter was "Strange Magic" by Darren Hayes.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own anything Supernatural or Buffy related. Dean is only mine in my dreams. ;)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 5: Guinevere<strong>

Sam had been right when he thought the conversation between Gen and him was going to be a long one. She demanded that he tell her everything about him and Castiel. That all by itself led to the explanation of many other things. When he was done speaking, he had basically told Gen his entire life story as well as what he knew of Dean's. Gen nodded as she listened, looking surprised at some points, face palming at others, and shaking her head sadly the rest of the time.

"So that's it. I don't know what else I can tell you," Sam finished. Gen raised an eyebrow at him.

"'That's it'? That's gotta be the understatement of the twenty-first century. Your story makes my life look like a cake walk," she replied, shaking her head. Sam leaned back in his chair and folded his hands.

"Speaking of your life, I think it's your turn to talk about your life story," he said.

"You're right. Well, let's see now…" she leaned back in her chair and looked thoughtfully at the ceiling. "I was born in nineteen-ninety-three. I don't remember very much of my life before I was five. I only know that I was born in Boston and went from one foster home to another before ending up at a shady orphanage in LA. Some nun decided to name me after Saint Genevieve. Nothing much to talk about up until I turned five. Shortly after that, a man named Kevin took me to an abandoned building to be 'cleansed'. Turns out, he was a demon who stole people from this world to make them slaves in another dimension where time passes differently. Once people are too old to work, they're spat back into this world. This was the first time they decided to steal children, hoping they'd be easier to break than adults. I was there for thirteen years. I marked the days on the walls of my cell so I wouldn't forget." She paused for a moment and looked at Sam. He looked rather sad.

"That must have been horrible," he said quietly. Gen snorted.

"Yeah, no kidding. The demons liked to break us in by asking us 'who are you' every day. If we responded with anything but 'I am no one' we were beaten and tortured. I learned fast that stubbornness would get me killed, so I complied, but I made sure I never forgot my name. I said it to myself every morning when I woke up and every night before I fell asleep."

"How did you get out?" Sam asked.

"Well, a few months later—in this dimension—another girl was brought in. She was different. She called herself Buffy and she kicked major demon ass. She helped all of us escape. She had strength and speed that I had never seen before in a human," Gen explained.

"What did you do after that?" Sam asked, now leaning forward in his chair.

"Well, I had no clue what to do in LA in 1998, so I stole some clothes and went from homeless shelter to homeless shelter. I went everywhere. I stole what I needed to survive. Being eighteen made some things easier than others. Sometimes I'd get lucky enough to find an odd job to get some cash. I knew I was born in Boston, so I was trying to get there to see if I could find my birth parents. It was on my travels that I got into some trouble. I don't like to hitchhike, because God knows what kind of creep could pick me up, but I was desperate one night. The person that picked me up turned out to be a demon. Tried to slit my throat. I bashed his face into the steering wheel and jumped out of car. Got pretty beat up, but I was still able to run away. After that, I became obsessed with anything supernatural. I would spend all my time in libraries studying every known piece of literature on weird things known to man."

"Did you ever make it to Boston?" Sam asked. Gen shook her head.

"No. I stopped wondering about my birth parents after a while and turned all my attention to hunting things. Almost got myself killed hunting a wendigo. That's when a met Brendan." At this point, Gen looked at her lap, cracking her knuckles. The corners of her mouth turned up in a sad smile. "He was a hunter. He saved my ass more times than I can count. Aaand scolded me every damn time for being so stupid. He taught me so much. Eventually, I knew more than he did." She chuckled softly, but she still seemed sad.

"Did something happen to him?" Sam asked, his voice concerned.

"Yeah. I killed him," Gen answered, looking up at Sam's face, her jaw tight. "Turns out, whoever the real Brendan had been was long gone by the time I met him. The man I knew was just a demon who knew how to hide it well. When the apocalypse was going down, he tried to get me to become a meat suit for Lilith. I said hell no—pun not intended. I trapped him in his body and killed him." As Gen said this, her eyes glazed over with tears. She swallowed hard and blinked a couple of times, forcing the tears away for the time being. Sam could tell by the look on her face that Brendan had been more than just a mentor to her.

"You loved him didn't you?" he asked quietly.

"To be fair, he was the only companion I'd ever known. I guess that kinda set me up to fall or him at some point," Gen answered. Sam nodded in understanding. Both of them were silent for what seemed like forever. Finally, Gen leaned back in her chair and looked up at Sam.

"Well I don't know why you summoned me, Sam Winchester. I'm afraid I know nothing about this 'savior' you mentioned." Sam frowned. He grabbed Kevin's journal and started flipping through it.

"See, that's the thing: the way I understood it, the spell was meant to bring the key to us, but it brought you instead. Maybe we missed something."

"You didn't miss anything," said a familiar voice behind them. Sam turned around to see Castiel standing at the foot of the stairs, surprised that he hadn't heard the angel come in.

"Did you find something, Cas?" Sam asked, taking note of the sickly appearance of his angelic friend.

"Yes." Castiel crossed the room and laid a stone tablet gently on the table in front of Sam. Gen leaned forward, looking at the tablet curiously. Sam looked surprised.

"Is this another tablet that Metatron wrote?" he asked. Castiel shook his head.

"No. If I understand correctly, it was carved by one of the first monks in the Order of Dagon. It's written in a language that predates all other language known to man."

"Can you read it?" Gen asked, surprising the angel a bit. Her demeanor was significantly different now.

"I'm afraid not, but I can, however, read this," Castiel answered as he retrieved something from the inner pocket of his trench coat. The something appeared to be a scroll.

"What is it?" Sam asked, untying the string around the scroll and unrolling it.

"It's a footnote of sorts, written by one of the last monks in the order just a few years ago. It says: '_It is getting too dangerous and I fear the location of the keys might be discovered if I do not take further actions to prevent it. I will give the keys form and place them in different times and places amongst humanity. The key Glorificus hunts will be put in the care of a special slayer, a few years in the future, for I know she will protect it with her life…if given a reason. The key to the heavens will put in a place no demon or angel will ever dare to look. But the key to the underworld…there is a greater destiny in store for it. 'And it is written, she will be known as the Saviour of the Damned.' Now I just need to find the proper vessel for the key.'_"

"The monk was afraid that Glorificus would find the keys, so he hid them. What did he mean when he said '_I will give the keys form_'?" Sam asked.

"The keys are originally formless. Just balls of energy and light really. We know that the first key mentioned was transformed into a human, using the DNA of the Slayer. But that's not all; there's a second page," Castiel said, pulling out the second scroll from his coat and unrolling it over the other one.

"Damn, how many scrolls do you have in there, Mary Poppins?" Gen asked.

"Just the two," the angel replied absently.

"What does this scroll say?" Sam asked, redirecting the conversation.

"'_After many months of searching, I have finally found the perfect vessel for the key to the underworld. During my stay in Boston, as I was taking an evening stroll, I happened across a dilapidated orphanage. The state of the building was not what caught my attention, rather the little bundle that lay on the front steps. Further inspection confirmed my thoughts that it was a baby, but the cold March winds had frozen the poor thing to death. I knew then what I had to do. I would give the key a home and this infant new life at the same time. When I had done this, I brought the child back to the orphanage and handed it over to sweet, elderly sister, rather than leave the child out in the cold. My mission is complete now. I will conceal these records with the tablet, where none shall discover them._'" Castiel finished reading and looked at Gen.

"When is your birthday?" he asked. Gen, eyes wide with realization spoke quietly.

"March first."

"Didn't you say you were born in Boston?" Sam asked, looking up at her. Gen nodded mutely, unable to properly process the slew of information she'd just received. Castiel looked at Sam.

"You wanted the key to hell—you're looking at her."


	7. Annie, Are You Okay?

**Please read and review! The song I used for the last chapter is "Guinevere" by **_**Eli Young Band**_**.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own anything Supernatural or Buffy related. I merely own Gen and this story.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 6: Annie, Are You Okay?<strong>

Gen was having trouble accepting the fact that she had died and been resurrected with a mystical key inside her, so Sam had showed her a room where she could stay and offered to go to her motel and grab her things; he was trying to her space and time alone to sort things out. Surprisingly, the motel she'd been staying at was in Beulah, North Dakota where Sam was headed to follow a lead on Dean and Crowley. Sam poked his head in Gen's room when he and Castiel were on their way out the door.

"Do you need anything before we take off?" he asked.

"I don't think so. You showed me where the weapons are in case something, somehow, gets past the warding and I know where the kitchen and bathrooms are," Gen replied. She looked rather tired. Sam supposed being summoned magically and told you were a magical key would make a person rather tired.

"All right then. Here's my cell number in case you need us," Sam said, handing her a folded piece of paper. Also, if you're in trouble and can't warn me say: funky town. It's a code word Dean and I have used to let each other know when we're in danger."

"Alrighty then. Thanks, Sam," Gen said, taking the paper. Sam gave her a small wave, then left to join Castiel in the car.

When Sam joined the angel outside, he caught him coughing terribly and looking rather pale.

"Hey, Cas, why don't you let me drive? You should rest," Sam said, looking concerned.

"I'll be okay," Castiel replied. Sam raised an eyebrow at him. With a sigh, the angel reluctantly handed over the keys to the hunter and got into the passenger's side. Sam sighed. He knew Castiel was trying to make light of his condition, but he wasn't doing a very good job of it. The angel never had been a very good liar. If this hadn't been an "all hands on deck" situation Sam wouldn't have asked for his help. Unfortunately, tracking down his demon-possessed brother was not something he could do on his own.

They hadn't even driven a mile when Castiel fell asleep. Sam silently promised his friend that, as soon as Dean was saved, he would find a way to help him.

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><p>When they made it to the motel where Gen had been staying Sam didn't bother waking Castiel up. The poor guy needed his sleep. Sam closed the car door as quietly as possible and started to look for the room that Gen had given him the number of it. He found it easily and picked the lock. When the door swung open, Sam immediately knew something was off. The shower was still running, that much he'd expected, but the rest of the motel room was in complete disarray. It looked like someone had broken in and tore up the entire place looking for something. Or someone.<p>

Sam took the demon knife out of his jacket pocket and carefully scoped out the room, including the bathroom. Whoever had been there was gone. A sinking feeling came over Sam. What if he and Castiel weren't the only ones who had been searching for the key to Hell? This brought up a whole new array of problems. Sam put the knife back in his pocket and set to work collecting Gen's things and shoving them back into her duffel bag. He did so quickly and headed back outside, closing the door behind him. What he saw when he came outside made his blood boil. Crowley was leaning against the hood of the car while Castiel slept peacefully inside.

"'Ello, Bullwinkle. Did ya miss me?" Sam whipped out the demon knife, getting into a defensive stance.

"So much," he said, ready to take down the monster who'd stolen his brother. The king of Hell put his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

"You're looking for Dean; I'm here to give him to ya." Sam stared at the demon skeptically, but relaxed his stance a bit anyway.

"Why?" Sam asked, never taking his eyes off Crowley.

"The little prat's bad for business. He's…uncontrollable. Must be the mark. Anyway…Dean's your problem now, _again_, forever," Crowley answered.

"Then where is he?" Sam asked, getting more and more agitated every minute.

"First, there's the topic of my finder's fee," the demon said. Sam gave him another eyebrow raise.

"What do you want this time, Crowley?" he asked, his tone somewhat exasperated.

"The First Blade."

"Why? It only works with the mark." The demon rolled his eyes.

"Don't be thick! I don't want to _use_ it! Once your brother finds out that I sold him out he'll be gunning' for me. Do you really think I want him to have the blade?" Crowley responded.

"What will you do with it?" Sam asked, putting the demon knife back in his jacket pocket. Crowley shrugged.

"Throw it into a volcano? Leave it on the moon? I'll get creative. Trust me, I don't want Dean getting his hands on the precious any more than you do." Sam sighed. He didn't want to do business with Crowley, but this was his best chance at finding his brother.

"Fine. Now tell me where my brother is," he said after a moment.

"I knew you could be a sensible man," Crowley said with a smile, reaching into his pocket and retrieving a folded piece of paper. "This is where you'll find Dean. Now where's the blade?"

Sam took the piece of paper and pulled the First Blade out of his jacket, handing to Crowley, albeit reluctantly.

"Bloody hell! Are you mad? Taking that thing on a hunt for your brother who just happens to have the Mark of Cain?" the king of Hell exclaimed and his stuffed the blade into his jacket. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Get out of my sight before I change my mind and kill you." Crowley snorted.

"As if you could, Moose," he said, turning to leave. He paused and turned back to Sam.

"Oh, and as an added bonus for taking your brother off my hands, here," he said, tossing something to Sam. The hunter caught it and held it up to see what it was. It was a glass vial with a skull stopper, filled with what appeared to be angelic grace. He looked up at Crowley questioningly.

"Give that to Castiel. He's no good to either of us dead." And with that, Crowley disappeared. As if on cue, the angel chose that moment to wake up. He got out of the car, looking at Sam quizzically.

"Is everything all right?" he asked with a yawn. Sam quietly handed him the vial of grace. Castiel looked upset.

"Where did you get this?" he asked warily.

"Crowley," Sam replied, taking a quit glance at the location on the paper and putting it in his jeans pocket. Castiel's eyes widened.

"What!?" Sam jerked his head toward the car.

"Come on, I'll tell you on the way."

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><p>After a nap, Gen got bored and decided to explore the bunker.<p>

"If I only had sunglasses and my iPod, I could reenact the scene from Risky Business," she said to herself with a chuckle. She found the garage and took a look inside. When she flicked the lights on, her jaw dropped.

"Awesome!" she mumbled breathily. She spent at least ten minutes examining and praising each vehicle, particularly the motorcycles.

Eventually, she started feeling a bit chilly standing in the garage in her over-sized boxers and button-up shirt, so she left to explore more of the bunker. There wasn't a whole lot that she found particularly interesting until she came to the room with the dungeon in it. She took one quick look, mumbled, "Kinky," and left. She didn't even want to know what went on in there. As she was making her way to the kitchen for a snack there was a loud pounding sound. Following the sound lead her to the front—and probably only—door. She chewed on her lip for a moment. She doubted that anyone would just come knocking at a secret, anti-supernatural bunker to "borrow a cup of sugar" and Sam hadn't mentioned anything about expecting a visitor. Deciding not to risk it, Gen crept back downstairs and grabbed one of the swords on display in the room.

She was pulling out the cell phone Sam had given her to call him and let him know something was off, when suddenly there was a blast that came from upstairs where the front door was. The sound deafened Gen and the force of the blast felt like a minor earthquake. She looked up toward the door, but there was too much smoke and dust rolling in for her to see what was going on. Taking the safe route and assuming that someone had blown the door open, she ran to her room and locked the door behind her. She ripped the sheets off the bed and shoved them against the edge of the door so no one would see that the light was on, then scooched under the bed. It was low to the ground and hard to fit her chest and hips underneath it, but she managed.

_I really need to lay off the cheeseburgers._ Gen thought while she focused on her silent breathing. She listened intently and was able to vaguely make out the sound of footsteps, definitely from multiple people, running down the metal stairs. After that, it was completely silent. She chewed on her lip until it bled, then sucked on it until it was numb; a nervous habit of hers. Suddenly, he heard scuffling outside her door, right before it burst open with the sound of splintering wood. She held her breath and hoped that whatever was in the room couldn't hear her heart pounding. Sam had told her the bunker was safe from all evil, she supposed whoever built it didn't think about someone blowing up the door. If she made it out of this, she'd have to mention it to Sam.

She heard a noise that sounded like someone, or something, sniffing loudly. Her eyes widened when she realized she was being sniffed out. She was trapped. Suddenly, something grabbed her ankle and pulled her out from under the bed, scraping her butt on the frame as they did so. She kicked wildly, managing to hit what was probably a leg before scrambling to her feet and spinning to face her attacker. What she saw was something she had never face before. Her assailant appeared to be a bald human male, but where his eyes should have been were carved symbols, and he wore long black robes. In one hand, he held a rather nasty looking knife.

Gen swiped at him with her sword, then placed a kick to his stomach when he tried to block her. She jumped up on the bed and rolled backwards off of it, landing on her feet and booking it out the door. She ran towards the dungeon, since it seemed like the next safest place in the bunker. A couple of times, her feet slipped on the concrete floor, but she caught herself and kept running. She made it to the dungeon and slammed both sets of doors behind her. She leaned her head against the door and breathed a sigh of relief, but her relief was short lived when the feeling that she was being watch trickled icily down her spine.

Gen turned around slowly, her body shaking, only to find two men, identical to her first assailant, standing there. They must've split up to search for people. She turned around and yanked the doors back open, revealing another of the cloaked men waiting for her. She lunged at him with her sword, but he dodged. They seemed surprisingly agile for blind men. She used the moment to knock his feet out from under him, but before she could finish him, she felt something _wrong_. At first, there was a deep pain in her back, but it quickly started to feel numb and cold. Her eyes grew wide; she had fought enough creatures in her life to know what that feeling was.

It was a knife in her back.


	8. Running Up That Hill

**Please read and review! The more reviews I get, the more motivated I am to update sooner! Thank you! The song I used for the last chapter was an excerpt from Michael Jackson's **_**Smooth Criminal**_**.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own anything Supernatural or Buffy related, but I dream about "owning" Dean. ;)  
><strong>

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><p><strong>Chapter 7: Running Up That Hill<strong>

Sam and Castiel—with his new dose of grace—pulled up to the bunker with Dean handcuffed and glaring at them from the backseat of the Impala. As soon as they saw the bunker's front door blown off the hinges, they knew something was wrong.

"Gen!" Sam exclaimed. He'd barely managed to put the car in park before he was out and racing towards the door, leaving Castiel to drag Dean to the dungeon. The angel looked at his demonic friend uncomfortably before beginning the process of dragging him into the bunker.

Sam hurried from room to room, searching frantically for Gen. When he saw her bedroom door busted in, he grew even more panicked. After moments of searching and calling her name, Sam found her collapsed in a heap in the dungeon, surrounded by other bodies. For the moment, Sam ignored the other bodies and bent down to Gen, rolling her over so she was face up. He checked every pulse point he knew. He breathed a small sigh of relief when he discovered that she did in fact have one, even though it was weak and fading.

"Cas!" Sam yelled, hoping the angel would hear him. He did and moments later appeared in the doorway of the dungeon, dragging Dean by his shirt collar.

"Sam, what happened here?" he asked, his voice deeply concerned.

"I don't…I don't know," Sam replied. He looked up at his angelic friend, his face pitiful and puppy-like. "Can you heal her?" Castiel frowned. He dragged Dean past Sam, Gen, and the bodies and left him in the middle of the devil's trap before returning to Sam and kneeling down next to Gen. He looked her over, and then turned his gaze to Sam.

"I can heal her, but it will cost me much of my grace. I may not have enough left to help you with your brother."

"Do it!" Sam urged.

"You're sure?" the angel asked, surprised to hear that Sam was willing to risk his brother for someone he barely knew.

"Yes. If none of the usual tricks work on Dean, she's our last chance to save him. Heal her." Castiel nodded and put his hand over Gen's heart. There was a glow of angelic light and then nothing. The boys held their breath anxiously, all the while Dean was watching. He was intrigued. Who could this woman be that Sam was so eager to save? And how in the hell was she planning on saving him?

Suddenly, Gen's eyes shot open and she gasped for air. Sam and Castiel exhaled in relief and relaxed visibly. Gen looked at the boys and managed a small grimace.

"You're a little late for saving the damsel in distress aren't ya, boys?" she asked sarcastically. Sam chuckled a bit and helped her into a sitting position.

"You're lucky we made it back when we did. What the hell happened here?" Sam asked.

"I haven't a damn clue. One minute, I'm exploring the bat cave, and the next these guys are blowing up the front door—you might wanna fix that by the way—and then going all Norman Bates on me with those nasty-looking knives of theirs," Gen answered, rolling her shoulders to ease the stiffness in her back. Castiel got up and began examining the bodies; all of the bodies were pretty much identical.

"Got anything for us, Cas?" Sam asked.

"I've never seen this before. All I can say is: they're most certainly agents of something very, _very_ old…and _evil_. I have no doubt that they were here for Gen. Though how they found her, I don't know."

"Well I could've told you that last part," Gen mumbled sarcastically.

"And you managed to take them down all by yourself?" Sam asked in surprise. Gen gave him a half-hearted glare.

"I find your lack of faith in me disturbing," she said, a bit sarcastically. Dean snorted, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Whoever she is, I like her. You two sure know how to pick 'em. But I don't think there's anything this little firecracker can do to save me," he said, appraising the tiny woman.

"Shut up, Dean," Sam mumbled. Gen stood up and turned to look at Dean. She looked him over from head to toe, keeping her face impassive. At last, she looked him dead in the eyes. What she saw there was pure malice. Nothing but ice and blood lust. It sent chills down her spine, but she refused to show any weakness to this demon. She crossed her arms and shifted her weight to one foot, jutting one hip out.

"Well…at least he's a sexy son of bitch," she said over her shoulder. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Please, don't do anything to stroke his ego." Dean smiled a toothy grin and Gen felt icy sweat break out along her neck.

"It's not my ego that needs stroking," Dean said suggestively, winking at Gen. She rolled her eyes and made a disgusted noise.

"Charming," she mumbled, backing up a bit to stand next to Sam. "So what's the plan?" she asked.

Sam explained to her the process of curing a demon with sanctified human blood. "I thought we would start there," he said.

"Good, while you do that, I'd like to get changed into something more appropriate. Did you bring my things?" Gen asked. Sam nodded while he unloaded a cooler of blood that had been blessed by a priest.

"The duffle bag is in the black Impala outside. Be careful. Who knows how many of those creeps are still out there looking for you," Sam answered.

"Don't worry, Sam, I'm always careful." Gen turned and walked away, ignoring the feeling of Dean's eyes watching her all the way.

After retrieving her things from the Impala—which she drooled over for a while when she saw it—Gen decided to take a shower before getting dressed. She was healed, but still covered in blood, though that wasn't why she felt the urge to scrub her skin raw. It was the way Dean looked at her. The moment she'd laid eyes on him, memories surfaced that she had worked very hard to suppress. Everything from the way his did his hair, to his body language, to the things he said reminded her of Brendan. When his eyes roamed over her body, she didn't feel turned on, she felt cold. It reminded her of way too many things.

She spent an hour standing in the shower with the water as hot as she could stand it, letting the smell of her shampoo make her forget about the demon upstairs. She finally decided that she spent enough time wasting water and carefully exited the shower. She rubbed the fog off of the bathroom mirror and appraised herself. There was no sign that she'd been injured today. Her eyes wandered over her scars; she had many of them from head to toe. There was a scar just barely hidden by her hairline from a fight where she'd bashed her forehead on something. On the left side of her neck she had a scar where a vampire had tried to use her arteries as a juice box. She had a couple scars from torture and gunshot wounds and a few burn scars in between. Nothing too terrible; just light pink scars in random spots. Those scars didn't bother her, however. On her right, inner thigh were three, long, pink, horizontal scars that she'd received when Brendan sent a hellhound after her. Those were the scars that still made chills run up her spine.

Gen closed her eyes for a moment to help retain her composure. Deciding that she'd looked at herself enough, she turned away from the mirror and grabbed the pile of clothes she'd brought into the bathroom with her. As she dressed, she heard a sudden scream that made her blood run cold. It was neither animal nor human. She knew what it was—it was the sound of Sam trying to cure Dean. Gen shivered and finished dressing. She made her way back to her room and grabbed some of her more concealable weapons. Deciding that she was armed enough, she left the bunker to go for a run. She had left a note for Sam, but decided not to bother him. Truthfully, she didn't think she could bear to look at his brother again. _Dean. His name is Dean._ Gen reminded herself.

She tried to tell herself that it wasn't Dean's fault that he was a demon, that he had been a good man once. True as it may have been, she still couldn't see anything except a demon. In truth, her experiences made her a little bit biased against anything with black eyes. As she left the bunker and started off at a light jog, her mind drifted back to the year she spent with Brendan. He had saved her life, more than once, and taught her so much in such a short time. A familiar ache began to build in Gen's chest. She had always felt safe with him, like nothing could touch her. What a naïve thought that had been. She grimaced when she remembered trapping the demon in his body and setting him on fire. Had that killed him? Gen had no clue, but it was better than leaving him to sucker some other girl into being a meat suit for Lilith.

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><p>Sam never left the dungeon once he started the process of curing his brother. He had done everything in his power to consecrate the room to make sure the ritual worked. Several of hours into it, Sam couldn't ignore that Dean didn't seem to be getting any better. If anything, the blood seemed to be causing him great pain. The sounds that Dean made were bone-chilling, neither animal nor human. Currently, Dean was passed out in the chair. Sam left the dungeon to speak with Castiel, who was working on putting the door back on its hinges. The younger Winchester was surprised to see that the angel had done a good job putting the door back in place; he never would've thought Castiel would be a good handy man.<p>

"How's the treatment going?" the angel asked when he'd finished with the door. Sam sighed.

"I don't know. He doesn't seem to be getting any better. If anything, the treatments are causing him pain." Castiel frowned.

"This is the only way I know of to cure a demon. However, we both know Dean isn't any ordinary demon. He bears the Mark of Cain. For all we know, this cure won't work," he said grimly. Sam looked pained.

"We can't afford to think like that. We have to try everything." The angel nodded in agreement.

"Yes, but we need to acknowledge what must be done if worse comes to worse."

"I know," Sam replied. The two men stood in awkward silence for a moment. Sam broke the silence with a small snort.

"You know, I keep thinking about how angry I was with Dean for letting Gadreel possess me. I had accepted death, but he just couldn't let me go. I thought he was so selfish for dragging me back into this world and now here I am, doing the same thing to him. I just don't know what's right anymore. I wonder sometimes if I should just kill him and spare him the torture, but…honestly, Cas…I don't know if I can do it. But I'll be damned if I let anyone else do it." Castiel sighed; he never had been good with comforting people.

"I don't know what to say, Sam. All I know is, Dean wouldn't want to stay a demon. Personally, I would rather fail, knowing that we tried everything in our power to save him, than not try at all." Sam ran a hand through his hair wearily and looked at his watch.

"It's time for another injection. Let's go see how he's doing," he said. Castiel nodded and followed Sam to the dungeon. When they arrived, they both froze at the entrance.

Dean was gone.


End file.
